


Just a little sheep shifting

by sansaswildlinglover



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Post-season 7, Sharing a Bed, The lone wolf dies but the pack survives, post-parentage reveal, this fic is ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 01:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16588430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaswildlinglover/pseuds/sansaswildlinglover
Summary: After Bran reveals some secrets about Jon's future, Arya and Sansa try their best to keep the pack together.





	Just a little sheep shifting

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the middle of plotting out a serious fic, and then this happened :')
> 
> I don't consider this anti-Dany, but if you really, really adore her and/or Jonerys, you might not want to read this fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Arya slips out of the guest house bedroom, gently closing the door behind her. Now that she's successfully completed her task, she's not as cautious about being caught anymore. She hears footsteps approaching from around the corner she's about to turn, but she doesn't slide back into the shadows.

"Lady Arya," the Imp greets her. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Do tell me, should I be afraid?"

She crosses her hands behind her back and chuckles. "Don't worry, I'm not killing any Lannisters today."

His eyebrows rise up, twisting his ugly face. "That's such a relief! But what  _are_ you doing here?"

She turns sideways to start moving past him, shrugging innocently as she remarks: "Oh; nothing really, just a little sheep shifting."

"Not my bed, I hope!" he exclaims.

She blinks slowly, the only sign of her being surprised she'll give him. "Don't worry," she tells him. "I would never." 

She's just in time to see Jon entering the guest house. She almost can't restrain herself from laughing out loud. It's so good to have him back, she hasn't felt this giddy in years. Now she just has to make sure he's not taken away from his home again, and that's exactly what she's doing.

He smiles when he sees her and lifts a hand to ruffle her hair. "Hi there, little sister."

"Good to see you, big brother. Ready for me to knock you into the dirt again tomorrow?"

"We"ll see about that!" he laughs.

There's a smile on her face when she steps out into the cold.  She's finished her part of the plan, Bran is keeping Daenerys busy, Lyanna knows what to do and now it's all up to Sansa.

She's trying hard not to think about her sister's role in the plan. Just imagining it is absolutely nauseating to her, but she supposes this isn't the worst Sansa has had to suffer, and she admires her sister's dedication. Still, she'll need something to distract her thoughts from drifting to what will be happening the next couple of hours. 

When she enters the courtyard, she sees Gendry standing by the stables, talking to a group of guards, and she knows she's found exactly what she was looking for.

***

Jon stares at the door in front of him, taking a deep breath. He releases it in a sigh, but his arm is still feeling unbearably heavy. He's not sure how, but he grits his teeth and finds it in himself to lift it and open the door. He steps over the threshold and closes it behind him.

Daenerys' bedroom is empty, but the fire is blazing and it's hotter than summer in here. It's making him sweaty and uncomfortable, and soon he feels the need to punch something. There's an ugly Essosi vase close to the bed he could knock over, but he resists the urge because he knows she'll make him regret it in the morning.

It's getting difficult to breathe, and he realizes it's not just the heat: Dany's room reeks of horse shit. His nostrils are filled with a nauseating stench and his stomach turns as it hits him so unexpectedly.

He's used to bad smells. At the wall every man had a strong odour, and in the Wildling camp there was always some kind of dung nearby, but he's wearing the cloak Sansa's made for him and he doesn't want that awful smell to get a chance to cling to its fur.

He sighs in relief as he exits the room. There's no way he's sleeping there tonight, so he decides to head back to the Great Keep and find his own room in the family quarters.

To his surprise his chambers are already occupied. "Your Grace," Lyanna Mormont acknowledges him with a nod, barely looking up from where she's sitting in his chair, reading a letter.

"Lady Mormont!" He stares at her for a moment. "I don't mean to be rude, my lady," he starts hesitantly.

"But you're going to do it anyway?" she asks him, raising an eyebrow.

"No! I mean, what are you doing here?"

"I've taken up residence in these chambers," she informs him. "I had no desire to be in such close encounters with the Dragon Queen, so I had Lady Stark move me to more suitable accomodations."

"And my chambers were more suitable accomodations?" he asks, dumbfounded by her blunt statement.

"As house Stark's most ardent supporter, I deserve the finest rooms after Lady Stark and her siblings, and those happened to be yours," she says with a shrug, turning her attention back to the letter she was reading.

He turns away in defeat, wondering where he is going to sleep tonight. 

"Oh, that's right," she calls out when he's already halfway out the door. "Lady Stark was looking for you."

Jon clenches his jaw and exhales through his nose. He'd better go and see why Sansa needed him. This night was already getting unpleasant enough without her yelling at him again for avoiding her.

Fortunately for him, Sansa doesn't look angry when she lets him into her chambers. She offers him her most beautiful smile, the one that lights up her eyes, and sits down to brush her hair as she tells him about the letters she's received today.

He has trouble keeping up with whatever it is she's trying to tell him, mesmerized as he is by the movement of the brush through her gorgeous, long red hair. He's half-tempted to ask her if he can brush if for her, but she would probably think he was being silly.

When she's finished, they move to the settee in front of the fireplace. She fills a cup of ale for them to share and pulls out a ledger to go over the stores.

He should probably tell her Maester Wolkan already informed him about everything this afternoon. He doesn't. Instead, he listens to the melody and rhythm of her voice and watches the movement of her lips.

Suddenly she stands up, pulling him from his reveries. "It's late," she says.

Her frame is illuminated by the light from the fire and he can see how thin her shift is. She might as well be naked.

"I'm tired, Jon," she tells him. "And I think you are, too."

"Aye," he admits, clearing his throat to chase the huskiness from his voice. "But I don't have a place to sleep."

She bites her lip."You can sleep in my bed."

"But where will you sleep?" he asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"In my bed, of course," she shrugs and he cannot tell whether the flush on her cheeks is real or just a trick of the light.

His breathing has grown too fast and too shallow, and his heart is beating in his throat, but he nods. 

***

Sansa's aware Jon is not sleeping. She can feel his restlessness. She can't let him know she's still awake as well though.

She begins tossing and releases a soft sigh. A couple of moments later she whimpers, circling her hips. She can feel him tense up beside her.

"Jon," she moans as her back arches off the mattress. She lets him freeze, waits, and relaxes, and then she asks him, her voice hoarse and sleepy: "Jon? Did I wake you?"

"I think so," he lies.

"I'm sorry," she tells him. "I had a really vivid dream."

There's a long silence. "You said my name."

"Did I?" she asks innocently.

She can feel him hesitate. "Well, I think, technically, you moaned my name."

"It was an interesting dream," she informs him.

"Oh," is his only response.

She props herself up on an elbow. "You want me to tell you about it?"

He gulps. "If you want to?"

"It's difficult to explain though... How about I show you?" she asks as she straddles his thighs. She couldn't admit this to Arya, but she's longed for the things she's about to do. She knows this is necessary, but she's doing it because she wants to, because she wants him.

She leans down and covers his incredibly soft lips with her own. He only hesitates for a second before his mouth starts moving under hers and she has to stop herself from smiling.

His hand curls around her neck to keep her close as her own slides down to palm him through his smallclothes. He's already half hard and after a couple of firm strokes she can feel him throbbing against her fingers, and he releases a groan.

She unties his smallclothes and pulls them down to free him, curling her fingers around his length. He's hot and solid, but also soft like velvet in her hand. He whimpers into her mouth and she starts sucking on his full bottom lip as she pumps him up and down.

Suddenly he flips them over, attacking her lips. They part with a gasp and his tongue slips between the gap, caressing her own. He slides down her body, pausing to suck on her nipple through the thin fabric of her shift, but then he's pulling it up and still moving down.

"What are you doing?"

"It's called the lord's kiss," he tells her as he tugs her smallclothes down. And then his head disappears between her thighs. 

She's never had a man's mouth on her most intimate place before, she's never even heard of such a thing, but tonight can't be just about her, it's about giving Jon what he wants, so she lets him.

It's an odd sensation though, having his tongue and lips sliding over her sensitive flesh, but she thinks she does like the rasp of his beard against her thighs, and suddenly it doesn't feel odd anymore, only unimaginably good. She can hear soft cries and it takes her a while to register they're falling from her own lips.

He licks and sucks, and she pulls his face closer, her hands winding through his curls. He groans into her core, and she thinks he must be doing this because he enjoys it, but at the same time, he's making her feel so good, she already knows she'll ask him to do it again.

Pleasure builds inside her until it crashes through her body, and white light explodes behind her eyelids, leaving her boneless.

"That wasn't part of my dream," she tells him when he's lying next to her again, his beard wet and his lips obscenely swollen. "I want to try it, too."

She slips down his body, her lips trailing all of his scars. She nips at his hipbone and licks a stripe up the crease of his thigh. She takes a deep breath and closes her mouth over his manhood.

She doesn't have a clue what she's doing, but she listens to the sounds he's making, trying to find out what he likes. She has to brace her hands on his thighs to keep him down, but he's moaning her name so desperately she thinks she understands why he wanted to do this to her.

She's truly starting to enjoy it, losing herself in the act and his breathless groans, but then it's over and she swallows everything he gives her.

She wants to kiss him again, but perhaps she should hold back, with his seed still on her tongue. Jon has no such reservations, he captures her lips without hesitation and pulls her into his embrace. She could get used to this, she thinks, she  _wants_ to get used to this.

"Jon?" she asks when their kisses have grown too lazy to continue, and he hums back sleepily. "I think I want you to sleep in my bed every night from now on."

"Aye," he answers, sounding wide awake again. "I'd like that, too."

 

 


End file.
